Lanat Abad / The Place of the Damned

this mangy plot where by now only mothers still come, only mothers guard the nameless plots • and then sparingly • Peepholes burnt through the metal doors of their solitary cells, • just large enough for three fingers to curl out for a lemon to pass through for an ear to be held against for one eye then the other to regard the hallway to regard the cell and inmate • peepholes without a lens so when the guard comes to inspect me, I inspect him. Touch me, he said. • And through that opening I did.